


Unusual Punishment

by Quazie89



Category: Alvin and the Chipmunks - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 13:06:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18099095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quazie89/pseuds/Quazie89
Summary: When one of Alivn's pranks goes wrong, Mr. Talbot tricks the chipmunk into spending detention at his house, which holds an unusual secret.





	1. ONE

ONE

Early morning sunlight seeped into the office. Instantly brightened, the personal space of Principal Talbot was, at once, devoid of the shadows that had previously filled the room.

Talbot smiled. Bathing in the sunlight, he laced his fingers together and propped them under his chin. Sitting behind his desk, he eyed the door. Any moment now, he knew, Alvin would be shoved into the office and a teacher would be breathing down the chipmunk's small neck.

Shaking his head, Talbot closed his eyes. He was very fond of Alvin. Certainly, the boy was a pure menace, a criminal mastermind of the highest order, but Talbot's job would've been less interesting if he didn't have Alvin. The little devil brought unpredictable adventure into a crippled, old man's life.

A throbbing pain suddenly shot its way through Talbot's leg. Grimacing, he gripped his knee with a shaking hand. Frantically sweeping his eyes about the workplace, he searched for his restored cane.

He eventually spotted the staff. It was propped up against an old shelf that was half hidden by piles of paperwork.

Grunting, Talbot lurched to his feet. He was staggering toward the cane when a swift knock struck the door.

Talbot hissed with pain. Trying not to cough, he hollered, "Come in!"

The door thundered open. Talbot swerved around. He blinked at the shadowed figure that was hunched in the doorway.

"Mr. Talbot, I have grave news for you," an ancient, grating voice emanated from the small, dark form which confronted Talbot, who readily snatched his cane from its perch. Extending the staff out before him, Talbot prepared himself for a possible onslaught.

Its shoulders rolling with mirth, the short figure cackled with mad, high-pitched laughter. Conducting a stylized flourish of its cape, the strange creature revealed its true form.

Talbot lowered his cane. With a faint smile gracing his rough-hewn expression, he painstakingly lowered himself to his guest's short level. "Alvin. I should've known that was you! Why are you without a teacher?" he inquired, placing a firm, yet friendly hand over one of the chipmunk's rolling shoulders.

"Oh, Mr. Talbot, you should've seen you're face!" Alvin, doubling over with laughter, clutched his stomach. Giggling uncontrollably, he sunk to the floor. "It was so priceless!"

Talbot's smile faded. Now supporting the chipmunk with both of his big, calloused hands, the bemused principal gave the rodent some advice. "You should really be in class."

Alvin made a face. "Why?" he asked, glaring defiantly up at Mr. Talbot.

The elderly man sighed wearily. "What did you do this time?"

Alvin smiled sheepishly. "Nothing, I swear." He crossed his fingers behind his back.

Talbot wasn't buying the act. "Where are your brothers?"

A thoughtful light flashed across Alvin's mischievous eyes. He mused, "Well, let's see…Simon's in class, Theodore's at home with a cold, and I'm right here!" He grinned. "Isn't that great?!"

Put off my Alvin's enthusiasm, Talbot gingerly leaned backward. Being in a crouch, his knees were starting to ache. He rose slightly and studied Alvin. "Something's happened to the teacher," he determined, not stating a theory. He knew Alvin's class was having a substitute today.

Alvin rolled his eyes. "You've read my mind again. Mr. Talbot!" He jovially clapped his furred hands together. Collectively interlacing his tiny fingers, he innocently wondered, "How do you ever do that?"

Talbot raised his eyebrows. "I'm old. I have had my experiences, Alvin." He gripped his cane. "You should know that better than anyone."

Growing restless, Alvin eyed the staff, which was topped by a silver wolf's head. "Hey, you got it fixed!" he noted. His heightened interest swelled the room with energy. "That's great, but…Why the wolf head again?"

Talbot fondly stroked the metallic surface of the wolf's skull. "I have nothing personal against the wolf, Alvin," he revealed. "It's a graceful animal, a powerful hunter." He closed his eyes. "I adopted it as my personal guardian after my legs started acting up again."

Alvin's face went blank. "What happened last year? At the school rap party? How did you make all of those cool dance moves?" Producing gleeful sound effects, Alvin swept his draping, crimson shirt around his feet, performing an odd little twirl.

"Slow down, Alvin! You're going to make me dizzy!" Talbot joked. He rubbed his palm across his creased forehead. "I'm just getting old…Say, could you ask Dave if you could come over to my house this weekend? You can bring Simon, too, and Theodore if the boy is feeling well."

Alvin ceased his spinning. "Really? You would let us in that big house of yours! All right!" He danced out of the office before Talbot could explain anything.

After the boy's departure, Talbot eased himself onto his chair. Leaning his head back, he raked his fingers through his dark, red hair. Wondering what he had gotten himself into, he suddenly remembered Miss. Charlotte. He hoped the poor woman was all right.

"Way to go, Alvin," Simon sarcastically praised his younger brother. "You managed to frighten another poor lady out of her wits."

Sitting at a lunch table with his brother, Alvin smiled sheepishly. "Why, thank you Simon, you've made me terribly happy," he smartly remarked. Gnawing down on the sandwich Dave had fixed him for lunch, he smiled with his mouth full. He hadn't done anything harmful to Miss. Charlotte, who was perfectly all right. The old woman had just feinted after discovering one of Alvin's little, pain-inflecting contraptions in her seat.

"What did Mr. Talbot have to say?" Simon wanted to know. Alvin gulped down a hunk of bread.

"He seemed okay when I went to his office," he said, taking a sip of his juice. "He realized something was up, though. The man knows me too well." He shook his head.

"The man wasn't exactly thrilled when he walked in our classroom and found Miss. Charlotte passed out on the floor," Simon dryly recalled. Having finished his lunch, he rolled up his sandwich bag. Coolly tossing his garbage into a nearby trashcan, he added, "Wait until Dave finds out about your detention this weekend."

Alvin groaned. "Oh, please, Simon, not now!" he pleaded. He finished off the rest of his sandwich. Tossing his waste at the garbage canister, he sighed, "I always miss that stupid garbage…" His sentence trailed off into a series of angry grumblings. Seething, he rose from his seat and went to pick up his tossed bag, which had obviously failed to reach its appointed destination.

"I don't think I've got anything to worry about this time," Alvin told Simon after he successfully aimed his bag into the trash bucket. Beaming, he informed Simon of Talbot's invitation.

Simon's bespectacled eyes widened. "You're joking," he said, never taking his gaze off of Alvin. "He couldn't have…Ah, I see. He's got a punishment planned out for you," he theorized.

Alvin, gaping at Simon, demanded, "What are you talking about?" He was dumfounded. "Mr. Talbot would never punish poor, little, old me!"

Simon grinned. "We'll see about that, Alvin." He got up to head for the cafeteria's exit.

Alvin lowered his eyes. Following Simon toward the doorway, a painful realization hit him.

His popularity was endangered. Suddenly, for some abnormal reason, his loving classmates and admires were turning against him. When Miss. Charlotte collapsed, his whole class voted for him to be the one who informed Mr. Talbot of the accident.

Why was all of this happening in such an abrupt amount of time?

Before Alvin could sort out his unspoken fears, a large foot, jutting out of nowhere, sent him sprawling to the floor. Obnoxious laughter filled the lunch room.

"Aw, look, guys! The poor little chipmunk fell down!" The jeering stung Alvin's ears. Grimacing, he felt the blood tickling down from his nose.

"Hey, what was that for?" Alvin squeaked. He shakily got to his feet. He tasted blood in his mouth. Looking up, he glared at his assailant.

Jake Carter was looming over Alvin. Revolting and belligerent, Jake was very unpopular with the ladies. Finding true solace in his unpleasant gang of 8th graders, he wasn't very sociable with other students.

"That was highly unnecessary, Jake," Simon spoke. Bending over Alvin, he steadied his beaten brother's swaying form.

"Aw, shut up, Einstein! You're no fun!" Marcus Rogers, one of Jake's blubbering cohorts, complained. "Why did your brother have to mess with the hot teacher anyway?"

"Yeah, she was very pretty!" This witty remark came from Jason Smothers. Idiotic and brainless, Jason was the oldest member in Jake's gang. He had failed 8th grade twice.

"Because he's gay," Jake answered. He took hold of Alvin's shirt collar. Roughly shaking the bedraggled chipmunk, he snarled, "Right, Alvin?"

Angered by Alvin's unresponsive demeanor, Jake spun his unyielding captive around in a furious, circular swing.

"Alvin!" Simon shouted when Jake mercilessly hurled Alvin at the wall. Simon winced.

'Boys, boys! Break it up!" The order was issued by one of the cooks, a woman who was wringing her hands through a spaghetti-caked apron. Her plump face red with fury, she shoved Marcus and his thugs toward the door. "All of you are going to the Principal's office, now!"

"What about Alvin?" Simon glanced worriedly toward his brother, who was slumped limply against the wall. The cook sighed.

"He's going to the nurse, first," she decided. She dragged Simon away from the scene.

In his mind, Simon began to prepare a plausible explanation for Mr. Talbot and, for later, Dave.

In Mr. Talbot's office, Jake and Marcus flanked Simon, who shared a sofa with the thugs. On the phone, Mr. Talbot was talking quietly to Dave.

"I'm terribly sorry about all of this, Mr. Seville," the principal apologized. Every once in awhile, his wizened eyes would flicker hesitantly over the boys. "If there's anything I can do, I would gladly help you."  
Faintly, Simon could hear Dave's wearied reply.

"Yes, sir, Alvin's alright," Talbot assured the fretful father. "He's in the nurse's station." He nodded his head. "Yes, Simon's fine. He's here with me. Would you like to speak with him?" He looked over at Simon. "All right, then. I'll make sure the boys stay here until Miss. Miller picks them up. Yes. Thank you." He hung up the phone.

Simon, ignoring the leers he was receiving from the gang, explained everything. When he completed his version of the tale, he fell completely silent. Unable to meet Talbot's withering stare, he hung his head.

"Thank you, Simon. Do you boys have anything to say?" Talbot directed the question at the chipmunks' tormentors. Simon was pleasantly surprised to see a shadow of fear flash across the bullies' distorted expressions.

"No, sir," Jake mumbled in a low voice.

Simon concealed a grin with his hand. Jake and his friends were afraid of Mr. Talbot!

"Very well. Return to your classrooms. Simon, stay here with me, please. Your guardian will be here shortly to pick you up," Talbot informed the chipmunk once Jake's gang was gone. Simon nodded.

"Yes, sir," he agreed. Talbot's mouth curved into a diminutive smile.

"Why don't we play a game of chess while we wait?" he offered. Simon beamed.

"Yes, sir!" He enthusiastically repeated himself. For Simon, a good, challenging game of chess always brightened a grim day.

An hour later, when a flustered Miss. Miller arrived at the school to take the boys home, Alvin was released from the nurse's station. He was placed in Talbot's office, where he dully watched his brother's brewing chess match.

"Oh, my poor, little Alvin!" Miss. Miller wailed. Catching sight of Alvin for the first time, she groped the chipmunk frantically. She didn't stop sobbing until she held him securely in her enormous arms.

Too pain-wracked, Alvin didn't even bother to protest.

"Careful with the boy, Miss. Miller," Talbot advised. He made his last move. Simon quickly overtook him.

"I won!" Simon exclaimed. He tried to act surprised. Talbot chuckled.

"Indeed. I knew you could. I'm getting too old for this game," he yawned. Simon stood up from his chair.

"You played an excellent game, too, Mr. Talbot," he commented. Splaying a hand over one of the principal's broad shoulders, he added, "I had a great time." He headed for the door.

"Goodbye, Simon! Good luck with Dave," Talbot shouted.

Already down the corridor, Simon could only nod his head. He was going to need all of the luck he could get.

With the harrowing Monday coming to a close, Alvin surrendered himself to exhaustion. Extending himself across Miss. Miller's living room sofa, he attempted to fall asleep. His mind reeling, he struggled to block out the screaming Chipettes.

"How can you believe him, Simon?!" Brittany's bloodcurdling shriek rose above her sisters'.

"Why would he lie about something like this, Brit?" Jeanette's meekly, timid voice, dwarfed by the girls' heated squeaking, barely reached Alvin's ringing ears.

"Please! Don't' argue!" Eleanor squealed. "Theodore's sick and Alvin's not feeling well!"

Alvin suspected Simon was hiding away in the kitchen, doing his homework on the table.

"Watch this!" Brittany snapped. "We'll see how badly off he is when I'm through with him!"

Alvin roughly shoved his cap over his narrowed brow.

"Alvin Seville!" Brittany gasped wrathfully. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself!" She roughly cupped her fingers over the brim of Alvin's cap, which she yanked rudely from his head.

"Hey! Give that back!" Alvin snarled. Snapping his head up, he reached desperately for his pilfered hat.

"Wait a minute," Brittany urged. Twirling the cap around her finger, she dodged Alvin's swinging fist. Sitting beside him on the sofa, she proudly positioned the hat atop her head, concealing her swinging, golden hair. "What's wrong with you?"

Alvin, completely appalled, gawped at her. "There's nothing wrong with me!" he admitted. "Give me back my hat!" He desperately reached out for the cap.

Brittany clicked her teeth together. "So you faked the whole thing?" She sadly shook her head. "Alvin, Alvin. This is the worst trick you've ever pulled."

Alvin went immobile. "Trick? You actually think I would do something like that?" Aghast, he flung his arms akimbo. "They really did beat me up! I have proof! See?" Alvin pulled his breeches up, revealing his scabbed knee,

Brittany solicitously tapped her chin. "Your loosing your popularity!" she assumed, all too pleased with herself.

Alvin's fur bristled. Formulating a smart comeback, he reluctantly accepted Brittany's hypothesis. He couldn't deny her assumption. For some unfathomable reason, his popularity was, indeed, diminished.

"It's true!" Alvin wailed. He leaned his head over Brittany's shoulder. "It's all true! Everyone ganged up on me today!" He blew snot on Brittany's pink shirt. "Nobody loves me anymore!"

Disgusted, Brittany shoved Alvin away. "Ugh! Don't do that!" Her face contorted.

"I've had such a rough day, Brit," Alvin sniffed. "Why won't it end?"

"I've had enough!" Brittany, fuming, quickly rose from the couch. "I give up on you! Here's your stupid hat!" She violently chucked the hat at Alvin, who grabbed for it.

"Thank you, Brit!" Alvin gratefully placed the hat on his head. "You know how much this hat means to me!"

Brittany scoffed. She stormed from the living room. Minutes later, Alvin could hear her striking another argument with Simon and the other Chipettes.

Over the deafening disputing, the doorbell rang,

"Oh, that will be Dave!" Miss. Miller blared. She instantly reached the door.

Alvin darted up from the couch.

"Alvin, dear, you're a mess!" Miss. Miller fretted. Swiftly opening the door for Dave, she scooped Alvin in her arms.

"Alvin! What happed to you?" There was genuine concern in Dave's voice. Examining Alvin, he lowered his luggage to the floor. "What did those bullies do to you?" He gently inserted Alvin into his arms.

Alvin pointed at his bandaged nose. "They broke my nose!" He started to sob. "They skinned my knee! They were going to kill me, Dave!" Crying dramatically, he tugged at Dave's damp shirt.

"Oh, Dave, you're soaked!" Miss. Miller, dragging Dave into the house, slammed the door shut. "It's raining too much for anyone to be out there!" She jerked Dave's drenched jacket from his slouched shoulders.

Dave said, "Yes, I know, Miss. Miller." Staggering, he sunk his drained body into the sofa. Still clutching Alvin to his broad chest, he ruffled the chipmunk's disheveled mane. "Still, I had to come and check on my boys. Is Theodore doing well?"

Miss. Miller grimly shook her head. "He's still coughing, I'm afraid." She plopped onto the sofa. "And he's fever's still up but I'm sure we'll have the boy's feeling better this weekend."

"Alvin has detention then," Dave muttered. Alvin giggled nervously.

"Oh, yeah, that." Alvin's chin descended upon his chest. The disappointed glare plastered across Dave's worn expression made Alvin feel just a tad bit guilty.

"They need to go easy on this poor boy, Dave!" Miss. Miller dotingly pinched Alvin's shoulder. "These big boys at school are beating him to a pulp!"

Dave frowned at Alvin. "Did you fight back?"

Alvin cried, "They wouldn't give me a chance, Dave! They cornered me! They ganged up on me! I had no choice at all!"

Dave sighed gravely. "Alvin…"

Alvin decided to change the subject. "So how did that record deal go, Dave?"

Dave's disposition brightened. "Well, the Magic Keys Record company was pretty positive about the tune I had for them. " He grinned. "There could be another album in the works!"

Miss. Miller whooped gleefully. "All right, Dave!" she crowed. "I knew you could do it!"

Humbled, Dave stammered, "T-Thanks Miss. Miller!" He nervously gripped his wavy, black hair. "If it's all right with you, I think I'll go check on Theodore now. Don't let Alvin out of your sight!" Firmly planting Alvin atop Miss. Miller's lap, he sauntered off.

"You heard the man, Alvin," Miss. Miller chided. "It's best if you stay with me."

From behind the sofa, Jeanette and Eleanor shared a bout of giggling.

Perched on the edge of Theodore's bed, Dave smiled worriedly at the bedridden chipmunk. He inquired, "How are you feeling Theodore?"

Clutching his tummy, Theodore smiled. He answered, "I'm feeling kind of hungry." His stomach rumbled. Clutching his tummy, he tentatively squeezed Dave's trembling fingers. "What's wrong, Dave?"

Dave despaired. "Oh, Theodore, you don't have to worry about me!" His graying head was pounding. "We might be able to land us another record deal soon!" He reassuringly clutched Theodore's hand.

"Why are you sad then?" Theodore, unconvinced, sweetly questioned his adoptive father.

"Oh, nothing, it's just…it's nothing you have to worry about now." Dave left it at that.


	2. TWO

TWO

Upon waking up the following morning, Alvin's muddled mind was bombarded with flashbacks of yesterday's harsh happenings. Repeatedly he witnessed himself being beaten by Jake and his cronies. Continuously his nose became a bloodied mess and his knee a mound of scarlet, frayed flesh.

Uninvitingly, Dave's saddened expression wavered across Alvin's bleak visions.

Ashamed, Alvin gripped his bed sheets. Within the familiar confinements of his room, he recalled the night before. The tedious drive home…Dave's scolding lecture…Theodore's hacking coughs…These disconcerting details relentlessly plagued him.

A sharp, demanding voice abruptly rebounded against the walls.

"Alvin! Come and get ready for school!" Dave's yell was unmistakable.

Fiercely, Alvin disentangled himself from the covers. Trekking toward the kitchen, he halted. His knee wasn't burning. Frowning at the realization, he bowed low to examine the gash.

Fearfully tugging at the bandage which concealed his wound, Alvin grimaced. Removing the binding proved to be extremely painful. When his wound was visible at last, he pursed his lips.

The scab was already healing. Alvin saw this right away, and he was sorely disappointed. Contemplating, he rubbed his bent nose. It was hopeless. There was no chance of Dave letting him stay home.

Alvin ambled mindlessly through the house. Disheartened, he traversed into the living room, where Theodore reclined on the living room sofa. Stumbling upon this innocent scene, Alvin smiled thinly. Over the blaring of the television, he could faintly hear Theodore's rasping giggling.

He only has a cold, Alvin thought, detouring into the kitchen. He'll be all right soon. "There you are Alvin!" Dave, who was working industriously at the sink, careened around. He announced, "I've got great news for you boys!"

"I wouldn't get my hopes up, Dave." Simon, who was sitting at the table, poured milk into his bowl. He paid scant attention to Alvin. "All of your pervious girlfriends have fled away in terror."

Dave shrugged. "This one could be different, Simon," he said, drying his hands on his shirt. "She seems pretty strong-headed."

"Oh, another woman in the house?" Alvin's spirits rose slightly. Dave nodded.

"Her name's Miss. Hotch," he informed, "and she's offered to watch over you guys while I'm off trying to make that record deal. She seems to get along with children pretty well." He smiled wistfully.

Alvin, discovering his bowl, planted himself firmly into a chair. He felt slightly better. Having another woman in the house would be totally radical. For a moment, he almost forgot his dilemmas. With relish, he dug his fingers into the cereal box.

"Don't forget, Alvin, for the remainder of the week you have to spend part of your detention in Mr. Talbot's office, during playtime," Dave reminded his preoccupied son.

Questing for the elusive toy prize, Alvin froze. Mortified, he scowled at Dave. "Why? I didn't do anything wrong! I was the one who got beat up!"

Dave, waving a finger, reprimanded Alvin. "You almost gave Miss. Charlotte a heart attack!" He flexed his hands.

Alvin flinched. He had forgotten all about that.

Mr. Talbot stood regally in the doorway. Folding his hands behind his back, he scrutinized the approaching, shambling figure.

Under the light of a grinning, crescent, moon, Talbot could scarcely make out the bizarre visitor's shadowy façade. Short and stocky, the being concealed its face with a hood.

With a gait as unsteady as Talbot's, it hobbled along the wolf man's degenerating sidewalk, supporting itself with a hammer.

Claws scraped against concrete, rousing Talbot's suspicions. This deformed individual wasn't human.

Talbot held his staff aloft. "Excuse me. May I help you?" His distinctive, baritone voice, ever tranquil, unexpectedly wafted over the troubled creature.

There was a strangled squeak. Astonished, Talbot blinked. Alarmed, he cautiously beckoned the creature forward. "It's all right. I won't hurt you." He smiled.

Distrustfully, the hooded entity advanced upon Talbot.

Why, it's a chipmunk! Talbot thought, stunned.

Now that the rodent was standing under his swigging lantern, Talbot could just barely distinguish the munk's furry face, which was marred by scars and battle wounds. One particular, malicious scar snaked down the middle of the munk's warped expression.

"Half," the chipmunk grated, pointing at its abrasion. "Name Half."

"Hello, Half. " Talbot delicately held out his hand. "My name's Talbot," he introduced himself.

Half flashed a serrated grin.

 

The memory faded. Shaking himself out of his reverie, Talbot blinked. The dim, recollection of his earliest encounter with Half swiftly dissolved, leaving him unaccompanied in his office.

Presently positioned at his desk, he glanced down at his maimed hand. Two of his gnarled finders had been ruthlessly detached by a ravenously disoriented Half. Talbot, for years, had been keeping the chipmunk concealed in his attic, where spiders, rats, and dust bunnies abounded.

Well-acquainted with these nuisances, Half tolerated his living conditions. The impaired chipmunk never complained. Lately, however, Talbot was hindered by his failing legs, and he was unable to make frequent ventures into the attic. His recurrent absences, he feared, were transforming Half into an aggressive, demonic fiend.

He has eyes like Alvin's, Talbot realized. His blackened hand was burning. He ignored the pain. Fiery eyes…

"What happened to your hand, Mr. Talbot?!"

Speaking of the devil! With the explanation ringing through his mind, Talbot instantly cradled his hand. Alvin, having just arrived, was gaping idiotically at his principal's darkened flesh.

"If you can sit still, I'll tell you," Talbot began.

Alvin, surprisingly, fell silent.

Within the bowels of a massive, towering oak tree, a chipmunk named Speck yawned and pricked up his ears. Immobile and completely silent, he listened to the boisterous, stormy night. Alone, he felt completely vulnerable.

His mother had abandoned him that day. Almost obsessively Speck pondered over her rapid, silent departure. He couldn't find any reasonable explanation for her leaving him.

Sniffing, Speck buried his nose under arm. His fur rippled. He was curious about his father, too. He'd never known his father. He was a lonely child without any siblings who could enlighten him in these matters.

Outside, the rolling countryside rocked. Afterwards there was a sudden, earsplitting snap. The tree was falling, Speck realized. He was going to plummet to his death!

Speck squealed. The great, swaying oak's bark was splitting. The little abode he was holed up in started to collapse and the ground rose up to meet him.

When Speck awoke, his burning face was pressed into the mucky soil. Snarling in frustration, he pushed himself up from the ground. His face was on fire! There was something wrong!

Panicking, he raised his trembling flanks. Scuttling away from the felled tree, he searched desperately for a river. Once he reached the snaking trail of water that circled the foot of the hill, he peered worriedly into the murky liquid.

His face…His repugnant face was split by an extensive, jagged scar! Additional scratches crisscrossed his nose and mouth and his mortified expression was encrusted with shimmering blood.

Cackling intensely, Speck raised his head to the rumbling sky. Brandishing his claws at the rumbling sky, he howled, "I am Half! Never whole! Half!"

Only a livid boom of thunder answered his chilling assertion.

 

Pausing in his narration, Talbot cleared his parched throat. Ignoring Alvin's disbelieving glower, he downed a glass of water. "What's the matter, Alvin?"

"Why'd you stop?" Alvin rapidly fired the question.

Talbot supplied, "I needed a break." He downed a glass of water. "Don't you have any questions?"

Alvin shook his head. "No! Could you finish the story?"

With a nod of his head, Talbot resumed Half's woeful tale.

 

Since the night of the storm, Half's elongated journey turned grim and unpredictable. Never remaining in one place for long, he constantly wondered. His short legs carried him far. He traveled for years before he stumbled upon the town.  
A small, homely place, it looked like a town where nothing went wrong. Homes were nestled into a small, boxed community. Trees dotted the edge of sidewalks. Half felt as if he were in a dream.

Loping down a sloping road, Half's sharp, piercing eyes roved over warm, friendly homes and manicured lawns. The flawless scenery went unblemished until he saw the mansion.

A looming, terrifying, building, the manor was an enormous eyesore. Sneaky veins trailed along the building's crumbling exterior while the edifice's windows were black, emotionless pits.

Surely no one lived here!

Expectantly, Half descended upon the house, wielding a stolen hammer. He faltered when an intimidating, obscured figure exited the house.

 

"That was me, of course." Talbot seemed pleased with himself.

Alvin glowered. "That still doesn't explain what happened to your hand." His gaze lingered on Talbot's malformed hand.

"Half bit my fingers," Talbot explained. His eyes dimmed. "I've held up him in my attic for so long…I'm afraid I haven't been able to visit him as often as I should. I can't get up the steps…But I managed to ascend them yesterday. Half wasn't happy."

"So he bit your hand?" Alvin's tone was disbelieving. "Why?"

"He's getting lonely, tired and lonely. He's through with eating mice. He wanted to try something different." Talbot feebly lifted his hand. "I guess my flesh sufficed."

Alvin's expression softened. "Hey, I'll get this situation fixed up. I'll dig deep into Half's mind and make him confess!"

"That's exactly why I invited you to my house," Talbot revealed. His eyes were twinkling now.

Wondering what he had gotten himself into, Alvin groaned. How did he ever get into these dire situations?

It was Wednesday, the day Dave had chosen to leave for his trip.

"Well, boys, I'm off." Dave lingered in the doorway. Weighed down by his luggage, he leaned precariously over the sidewalk. "Miss Hotch should be here any minute"

"You don't won't to be late, Dave!" Alvin dashed up to his father. "You better hurry!"

Dave grunted. "Now, Alvin, I know what you're trying to pull and it's not going to work –"

Miss. Miller's piercing bellow floated over the lawn. "You're not leaving now, are you, Dave? These boys will be all alone!"

Dave spluttered, "Y-You don't h-have to worry, M-Miss Miller! I've h-hired a babysitter!"

Miss. Miller wasn't pleased over this bit of news. "A babysitter? Who is she?" She stepped coolly out of Dave's way as he staggered toward his car.

"Miss. Hotch! She's really great with kids! By, Alvin, Simon, Theodore! I'll see you sometime at the end of this month – There's Miss. Hotch now! Bye!" With this hasty farewell, Dave loaded his baggage into the car and hopped into the driver's seat. He was speeding down the road when Miss. Hotch pulled into the driveway.

"That boy would loose his head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders," Miss. Miller grumbled. She stomped away without greeting Miss. Hotch, who didn't seem to mind. In fact, the new babysitter was very happy and pleasant. Alvin liked her at first sight.

Nothing notable happened for the rest of week. Nevertheless, Alvin, paying his daily visits to Talbot's office, highly-anticipated the principal's Half-centered stories. At the end of the day, he would go home and share the stories with Simon and Theodore, who, under Miss. Hotch's care, was recovering nicely.

By that Friday, Alvin was geared up. He and his brothers were ready. They were going into Mr. Talbot's house.

"Why are you dragging us into this, Alvin?" Simon interrogated his brother.

"Hey, Talbot invited you and Theodore too!" Alvin, searching for his sleeping bag, rummaged through his closet. He tossed various toys into the floor before he eventually found what he was looking for.

Moonlight filtered in through the brothers' window. Simon, with his glasses pressed up against a telescopeic lens, explored the starry night sky. "Theodore's still sick," he matter-of-factly pointed out to his brother.

Alvin, as usual, ignored him. "I'll ask Miss. Hotch. She'll know if he's sick or not." There was a thump as Alvin flung his sleeping bag onto his bed, which was already overflowing with camping equipment.

"Why are you bringing so much junk?" Simon, throwing his hands into the air, reluctantly abandoned his viewing. His wearied gaze followed Alvin's rushed sprints.

"We've got to be prepared, Simon!" Alvin panted. He wasn't slowing down. "There could be anything in that house!"

Simon relented. He should've given up on Alvin a long time ago.

Downstairs, Miss Hotch placed a slender hand over Theodore's forehead. She determined, "It looks like your fever has gone down, Theodore! You'll be feeling as spry as ever by tomorrow!"

Theodore smiled. "I sure hope so, Miss. Hotch!" He rubbed his tummy. "Say, can I have a snack!"

Miss. Hotch giggled. "See, Theodore? You've got your appetite back!" Her freckled cheeks glowing, she teasingly tickled Theodore's rollicking tummy. The famished chipmunk giggled.

Soon after Miss. Hotch's departure, Alvin's voice floated into the kitchen. Theodore wondered what was going on.

"Is Theodore filling better?" Alvin asked Miss. Hotch. The babysitter was raiding the refrigerator.

"Oh, yes, he'll be fine!" she assured Alvin.

"Well, tomorrow, can he come with me and Theodore? We're going to our principal's house!" He innocently batted his oval eyes at her. She blinked at him.

"If it's all right with Dave." She considered the idea. "I hate to call him while he's away, though." Becoming desperate, Alvin gripped her lavender skirt.

"Please, Miss, Hotch? Please!" He resorted to begging.

"Oh, all right," she decided. "Just let me take care of Theodore first. Then I'll call Dave."

Alvin whooped. "I love you, Miss. Hotch!" He impulsively jumped into her arms and planted a whiskery kiss on her cheek.


	3. THREE

THREE

"Where's hammer?" Half spoke to the silence engulfing the attic. He tumbled over piles of boxes, knocking over the crates. In his wake he left a path of destruction.

His beloved hammer was gone!

Sobbing, he tore at a shredded curtain. He needed his hammer! Without his hammer, he was nothing, nothing but a Speck.

Speck. That was his former name, the name he detested. He was Half, now, not Speck. Never Speck.

In the driveway below, a horn honked. The blare rattled Half's poor, warped brain.

"Visitors?" Half guessed. Curious, he skittered to a window. In the driveway below, a strange, shiny vehicle was parked. A woman was getting out of the vehicle. She was followed by three children.

"Children." Half snarled. He disliked children. Children were loud, ungrateful beasts. They always harmed Half. Children were bad.

Distressed, Half gnawed on his lip. He watched, mortified, as his master went out to meet the woman and her kids. He watched, helplessly, as his privacy was invaded.

"So Dave's away on a business trip?" Talbot helped Miss. Hotch carry Alvin's luggage into the house. The babysitter nodded.

"He left in the middle of the week," she remembered. "He's off to make that record deal of his." Talbot nodded in understanding.

"Yes, Alvin has told me about that. He's told me a lot of things," he admitted, not appearing privileged.

Miss. Hotch laughed. "Oh, yes, he's quite a talker!" she agreed. "He talks me to death sometimes…Oh, this is a lovely house!" Standing in the manor' main room, she gaped at the building's high ceiling and wide walls. Her mouth agape, she allowed Talbot to carry the boys' luggage away.

The boys themselves were already exploring the house. At the moment, Alvin was leading his brothers toward the attic.

"Guys, maybe we shouldn't be here!" Theodore whispered. He winced as his feet touched a creaky step.

"Oh, Theodore, you worry too much!" Alvin chuckled. He led his brothers forward. Up ahead, he could dimly see the hatch that concealed the attic. Queasy with excitement, he started to move faster.

"Slow down, Alvin!" Simon, dragging Theodore along, barely caught up with his brother. "Theodore could still have a –"

"Be quiet! I hear something up there!" Alvin hissed. He pointed upwards. The latch was just above his head.

Theodore was quaking. "I hear something, too! It sounds like claws…"

"Oh, please…Alvin, what are you doing?!" Simon lunged for his brother, who leaped to pull the rope dangling from the hatch.

"Simon, watch out!" Theodore's warning was lost over the clanging hatch, which brought forth a ladder.

"Come on!" Alvin, gripping the ladder, hurriedly scrambled up it. He disappeared.

"Alvin! Are you okay –" Theodore fell silent. Simon hushed him.

"Come on. Be quiet," he urged, taking his brother's hand. Together the two chipmunks treaded suspiciously into Half's liar.

"Who are you?" Half hissed, confronting Alvin.

"My name's Alvin. What's yours?" Alvin was unperturbed.

"Half! It's always been Half!"

"Okay! Okay!" Alvin held his palms out. "Want to be friends?"

Half, threatened by Alvin's outlandish presence, sneered. "Us friends?"

Alvin nodded. "Yes! We'll be great friends! I'll take care of you, with my brother's help! Maybe if we help you, you want have to eat Talbot's fingers anymore!"

Half scrunched up his face. "Master's fingers yucky. Half don't like them."

"That solves it then!" Alvin grinned, not feeling intimidated by Half at all. "You can come and stay with us! We'll have a great time!"

Half snorted. "Half doubts it. Half changes."

"What do you change into?" Alvin questioned, suspecting the answer.

"Wolfmunk. Half wolfmunk."

"I was afraid of that." Alvin sighed. All along, Half had been the chipmunk who'd originally bit Talbot, thus turning him into the wolfman. "So who bit you?"

"Half not remember. Half old. Half been far. Time for Half to leave."

"You're leaving?" Alvin was incredulous. "Why?"

"Half tired. Let Half leave!"

Half, bowling into Alvin, sent the red-clad chipmunk roughly to the ground. Alvin squealed and squirmed as Half clawed his face in a brutal attempt to get out the door, which was being blocked by Simon and Theodore.  
"Get off him!" Theodore shouted. He swung blindly at Half, who fled, confused. Alvin, flailing, weakly raised his burning head. He watched, helplessly, as Half soared through the window.

"Why hasn't he done that before now?" Simon, bending down, propped Alvin atop his knees. His question went unanswered.

"I'm terribly sorry about this, Alvin," Talbot apologized. He felt terrible about what Half had done.

"Don't worry about me, Talbot!" Alvin fingered with one of his scars. "These battle wounds will make me popular with the ladies!" He lowered his hand. "Say, why didn't you tell me Half bit you first?"

Talbot lowered his gaze. "I hoped…I hoped you could change him…so we wouldn't have to worry about him being a werewolf…" He grasped Alvin's hand.

"Hey, your fingers look better!" Alvin noticed. Talbot spread out his healing hand.

"Why, you're right! They do look better than before…But Alvin, I think you should go home," he suggested.

"Why? I just got here!" Alvin protested, exasperated. He sadly glanced around the ancient restroom, imagining all of the hidden spaces he had yet to explore.

Talbot carefully lowered Alvin down from the sink. "Haven't you already been punished enough?" the principal asked. He took hold of Alvin's hand and led the chipmunk out of the bathroom.

Alvin paused thoughtfully. "I guess your right," he decided.

"Oh, Alvin, you poor dear!" Miss. Hotch gasped. She frantically grabbed for Alvin at the very moment he and Talbot entered the living room. "Your poor face!" She clutched at Alvin's arm.

"I'll be fine, Miss. Hotch, really!" Alvin assured her. "It just a couple of scrapes…The girls will be all over me now!"

Miss. Hotch wearily shook her head of dark, bouncy curls. "Boys, boys…" She dragged Alvin toward the door. "I hate to leave so soon, Talbot, but if anything else happens to Dave's boys…I'll be fired!"

"Perfectly understandable, Miss. Hotch, but I'm sure Dave will be reasonable." Talbot gently pressed Alvin out the door. Simon and Theodore abruptly appeared behind the principal.

"Well, it was nice seeing you again Mr. Talbot," Simon grunted, simultaneously gripping Alvin's luggage and leading Theodore. Heading after Miss. Hotch, he added, "Maybe we could come over again sometime." He waved at Mr. Talbot before dashing out the door.

"Maybe," Talbot whispered once the door had closed behind his departing visitors. Strangely, for the first time in years, he felt at peace.

Alvin's prediction about his popularity proved to be precise. The following week, Alvin's fame rose. The girls were doting on him, the boys envied him. Even Jack's gang respected the chipmunk's wishes.

Alvin, his sprits elated, decided to throw a party. A majority of his classmates were invited. The Chipettes came without an invitation. For awhile, the party was a huge success.

Unfortunately, Dave drove home after receiving a frantic call from Miss. Hotch. Fearing for her safety, the petrified babysitter had locked herself away in the basement. She refused to come out.

Dave, ever the harried father, stumbled over himself. Sprawled out over the doorway, he wailed over the blasting rock music that shook his house.

"ALVINNNNNNN!"

Dave's distressed cry floated down into the basement. Quaking in a corner, Miss. Hotch raised her head. She smiled shakily. Poor Dave, she thought. Alvin always gets the best of him.

Footsteps thundered upstairs. Kids squealed. Imagining the chaos exploding above her head, Miss. Hotch silently preyed. Deep in meditation, her thoughts strayed. She was surprised when her mind turned to Mr. Talbot.

Talbot. Now there was a strange man. Unexpectedly charming her, he composed his outlandish stature with calm, commanding dignity. She wasn't intimidated by him at all.

Unsurprised, she wrinkled her nose. It was awfully dusty in here, and smelly. Dave needed to put his boys to work.

Shifting her butt intolerantly across the floor, she gawked at the door, waiting for Dave. He would definitely be here shortly.

"Alvin! What is the meaning of this?" Dave intercepted Alvin. He planted himself firmly in the chipmunk's path. "Where's Miss. Hotch?"

Alvin scornfully glanced sideways. "She's in the basement…And I just wanted to have a party! What's wrong with that?"

Dave raised his voice. "Well, for one thing, you terrified Miss. Hotch!" He roughly gestured at the living room clutter. "And look at this mess your friends made! You're going to clean it all up!"

"Whatever! I'll do it later!" Alvin snapped. When he turned to leave, Dave held him back with a sturdy hand.

"First you'll apologize to Miss. Hotch. Then you'll clean up this mess!" Dave meant business.

Half fled the town. Unable to glance back over his shoulder, he kept his gaze straight ahead. Returning to the countryside, he kneeled over a mounting hill and sobbed. He missed his hammer. His lovely hammer. He would have to back for it.

He waited until nightfall.

Alone in the darkened house, Talbot attentively faced the fireplace. Lounged in his large, antique chair, he gripped Half's hammer, awaiting the chipmunk's return.

It was a traditional, stormy night outside. Talbot's ancient bones were aching. He sat very still, listening to the storm. He remained motionless even as the door creaked open seconds later.

"Come in, Half." Talbot's wearied tone was soft. "I have what you came for."

"You have hammer?" Half shambled swiftly up to Talbot's chair. "Can Half have hammer?"

Talbot slowly extended the hammer out to Half. "It's yours. Off you go."

Half became suspicious. "Master mad?"

Talbot shook his head. "No. You can leave. Farewell, Half." He waved Half toward the door.

"Farewell, master." Half cautiously shuffled backwards. "Half be good."

"Very well, Half." Talbot spoke conclusively. Listening to Half's departing footsteps, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

"I'm sorry, Miss Hotch. Forgive me?" Alvin lovingly wrapped himself around Miss. Hotch's arm, which was swinging wildly out the door.

Miss. Hotch chuckled nervously. "I forgive you, Alvin. After all, boys will be boys." With Dave's help, she heaved her luggage toward her car. "Poor little old me just can't handle all of the noise!"

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss. Hotch. Have a nice trip!" Dave eased Miss. Hotch into the driver's seat. Pulling Alvin away from the anxious babysitter's arm, he hoisted the puckish chipmunk onto his shoulder.

"Yeah! Have a nice trip! Alvin echoed cheerfully. He disregarded Dave's derisive glare. For him, the new week's eventful commencement ended abruptly and the tough chores began. Life was just peachy.

Yeah, right, Alvin thought. He winked deviously. Wait until Dave finds that present I left him in his bed…

THE END


End file.
